[PJG NEWS ARCHIVE]
The dark little pub just off the main promenade in Quantar Core hardly seemed a place to start something “Big” — nonetheless it had been chosen because it was a place of The People. For the most part it was Pilots who frequented this place — Quantar Pilots, maybe a few privateers. It wasn’t the kind of place to show your Sol or Oct colors.
The place was filled with the noise of three hundred conversations. Occasionally, you could hear a bar or two of indeterminate music during a lull. Then suddenly the music sounded very loud as the sea of bodies between the door and the bar parted, conversations stopped, and necks craned trying to see what was happening. What they saw was the silhouette of a man in a Priestly Cloak moving purposefully toward the bar. Priests did not frequent pubs.
The shadowy figure placed a hand on the bar and lightly vaulted up, tossing back the hood of the cloak, revealing a non-priestly-looking figure in Quantar body armor. Standing on the bar, the tall man’s close-cropped dirty blonde hair nearly brushed the dirty, smoke-stained ceiling. His deep set gray-blue scanned over the motley assemblage.
“I am Brother Ambrosius of the newly-formed Church of the Light of Roh,” he announced in a clear, deep voice. “I am looking for jump pilots to join the Brotherhood of the Stone, our priestly order. Miners . . . Fighters . . . Explorers . . . Traders . . . all are welcome.”
The noise of the pub started to pick up again as some lost interest and turned away to resume their conversations.
“We will be the bearers of the Light of Roh to he edges of known space,” continued Ambrosius in a louder voice. “We will protect the Brotherhood from all its enemies, and We will watch over the general welfare of all Roh’s children. This is a vocation only for the best to undertake — and of those best only the blessed will succeed.”
Now they were quieter, listening again as he had appealed to their egos.
“If you are a believer who is ready to take vows to the Brotherhood of the Stone, and think you have the blessed skills to follow this path, you can find me in Hangar Bay 7, or reach me through TRI’s JOSSH computer or talk to me on the Whisper Comms. Our squad is Brotherhood; my name is Ambrosius — A M B R O S I U S.”
“Whether you join our Brotherhood or not, you will come to know these names . . . soon.”
With that, Ambrosius lightly dropped to the floor and strode from the pub. The noise level raised just a little as the bar’s occupants discussed the strange homilist. One or two individuals quickly finished off their beverages and headed for the door in hope of catching up with Ambrosius. Others quietly contemplated their drinks — wondering privately whether they were up to the task of taking Brotherhood vows . . . and following this new zealot.